


one last time, so I can let you go

by warlockdetective



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Inspired by a Madeon Song, M/M, Mutual Pining believed to be Unrequited, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, right after Jerome and Esmé's wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warlockdetective/pseuds/warlockdetective
Summary: You want to tell him you'll see him again, but something tells you there won't be an "again" after this.
Relationships: Esmé Squalor/Jerome Squalor (mentioned), Jacques Snicket/Jerome Squalor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	one last time, so I can let you go

**Author's Note:**

> Admittedly this is one of those pairings that doesn't come to me too often, but _man_ when it does they really make me sad.  
> Honest feedback is appreciated.

You shouldn't be here.

For technical reasons, you hadn't been officially invited. While Jerome had given you an invitation in person, he had mentioned how he was surprised you hadn't said a word about the one he had mailed, and upon realizing that you hadn't even received the invitation you were convinced Esmé had interfered with it somehow. She knew that if you could find the right words to get to him, you would stop the union by any means possible. With that, it was easy to doubt that you were listed as an official guest. You remember throwing out the invitation as soon as you got home, shaking as your heart sunk and sobs stuck in the back of your throat.

For personal reasons, you _knew_ this was something that was going to hurt you if you went. It hurt you to think of what he was walking into, and you weren't sure if it hurt you more to believe he was oblivious or aware of all of it. It hurt you to think of the words they would speak to one another, one of them pouring everything he had into his words and the other either barely putting in the effort or blatantly lying. It hurts you to think that his words won't be for you, and it hurts you to think of how his words will be for someone who doesn't deserve to hear them, and you aren't sure whether you consider it a blessing or a coward's move that you forced yourself into attendance late.

You missed the ceremony, and you made it just in time for the after party. Esmé is nowhere in immediate sight, and something tells you that she's either keeping herself as far from Jerome as she can muster, or she found a way to leave altogether. Despite this, you try to keep yourself alert; even if she isn't present, there's a chance that someone else in the organization sees that you don't show yourself. Your guard drops the moment you spot Jerome and he looks back at you, and your heart stirs yet shatters when you see how _happy_ he looks. A part of you feels it's the wedding that brings the joyful look on his face, but part of you dares to believe _you_ could've been the cause of it. Words try to leave you, but Jerome pulls you into an embrace before the sentences can form, and you opt instead to linger in his arms for a moment. After a moment, he sheepishly admits that he didn't think you would come.

Before you can try to speak again, you hear the band begin to play as he brings you towards the crowd of dancing guests. Something tells you he's bringing you here because he couldn't find Esmé, but you find yourself too overwhelmed to really care if it's the truth or not. You know you should be on your guard, for even though the crowd is large enough to blend in with it, there's bound to be a face or two in it that knows you in a less than fond light.

But then Jerome takes your hand, and in an instant, there is no music, and there is no crowd. For a moment, there is only the two of you, and you almost miss it as reality starts to return to you. You are unsure which of you is leading, but there's a grace in your steps you find difficult, almost too private, to explain. There's a part of you that's selfish enough to wish that someone _would_ see you right now. For just this moment he is _yours_ , and everything you want to convey to him is leaving you in the quiet things; how carefully you carry him with the rhythm, how firm yet cautiously your hand is around his, how you dare yourself to rest your head on his shoulder. His head's against your chest as you dance, and you hope he can't hear how fast your heart is beating.

The song ends sooner than you expect it to, and the crowd slowly begins to disperse. A panic surges through you as you try to spot someone, _anyone_ , in the crowd, but your attention is drawn back to Jerome when you hear him speak your name.

You need to go. You shouldn't be here. _You need to go._

You want to tell him you'll see him again, but something tells you there won't be an "again" after this. You want to tell him you love him, as daring as it could be to say it _here_. You want to kiss him more than anything, and as you feel his hand resting against your cheek as he asks if everything is alright, you find yourself daring to dream that he would kiss you back. You have to shake yourself out of that dream; if anything, the safest thing to do is the first one, as much as it may hurt.

You _would_ tell him what many of the other guests would much later in the night, which was congratulations for a happy union, but that was a lie for many different reasons. Instead, with as much warmth in your tone as you can get away with, you thank him. Before he can ask what for, you tell him you'll be seeing him again. Reluctantly, you leave before he can ask when "again" is.

"Again" never comes.


End file.
